


the short-lived dumpling soldier

by Tacky (pepperedfox)



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperedfox/pseuds/Tacky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about Tsukihiko’s incredibly short career in the army and the amount of money he was swindled out of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the short-lived dumpling soldier

**Author's Note:**

> For the Mekakucity Actor Festival! This is short number one out of seventeen. Happy Tsukihiko day o/ Sorry for the liberal use of an oc in this ‘w’;

"No," said Youta, but the man did not hear him. The stranger’s hair was streaked with dust, but its uncanny whiteness still shone through. This did not seem to bother him as he settled on the opposite side of the campfire, sighing in relief. The soldiers nearby were watching, casting sharp glances to see how this encounter would play out.  
  
Youta valued two things: peace and money. In joining the army he had hoped to achieve both, but this man casually stepped on his plans as though they were little more than a doormat, and with a smile to boot. If there was malice to that smile he would’ve been satisfied. A punch would’ve been justified as defense of his territory. But the more he squinted, the clearer it became that this guy was sincere, with boyish zeal to boot.  
  
"I didn’t introduce myself, did I?" the man asked without invitation. "I’m Tsukihiko—!"  
  
"No," Youta repeated himself, as if telling a lesson to a child. He pointed his spoon at him. "You’re rude."  
  
Tsukihiko startled. His eyes, like his hair, were uncannily pale. “Rude? Ah, but… I saw you eating alone. I’ve been eating alone too the past few days, so I thought, ‘It’s better to eat together. Our morale can improve this way!’ Don’t you think so?”  
  
He really was a thick one, wasn’t he? He had his fist raised like he was at some sort of rally, smile much too bright despite his dirty uniform. He seemed the sort to wholeheartedly yell whatever the commanding officers told him to. Youta sighed.  
  
"… oi, you said you wanted to eat with me. Where’s your bowl, then?"  
  
"—! Are you going to let me eat with you?!"  
  
"Don’t get any funny ideas. Answer the question, will you?"  
  
That smile became awkward. Tsukihiko scratched at his cheek, canting his head. “I lost it,” he said. The soldiers behind them had stopped looking, but Youta was sure that they were listening by the way their shoulders shook like a silent pack of monkeys.  
  
Nothing but trouble would come out of this encounter. The damage, however, had already been done. Youta heaved another sigh and held out his hand.  
  
"Twenty."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Twenty coins," Youta said, "and I’ll split my share."

"Really…?!"  
  
He waited for him. As he thought, Tsukihiko began patting his pockets before procuring the amount. The cool weight of the coins in his hand was pleasant, and when he shook them they made a charming clinking noise. Youta was unpleasant—he never deluded himself otherwise—but he was not a liar. He passed his bowl over to him, watching those pale eyes light up in delight.  
  
"Thank you! Um, I don’t think I caught your name."  
  
What a guy, thanking someone for cheating him. Youta tucked the payment away and reached for the pipe at his feet. “Asahina,” he said. “Youta Asahina. Don’t treat me like a friend. I need the money, that’s all.”  
  
"I see, I see…" Tsukihiko bowed his head. "Asahina-san, thank you. I’m glad to meet you!"  
  
Youta grunted. The rest of the meal passed in silence, ended by Tsukihiko bowing with cheerful thanks before taking his leave. Some of the soldiers nearby were leaving at the same time and shoved roughly into the albino as they passed by.  
  
Youta sucked on his pipe, watching the spectacle for a minute. Although they pushed him hard enough to make him wobble, not once did a noise of protest escape him. Once they dropped out of sight he let his eyes fall to the dying fire.  
  
—  
  
"It’s you again."  
  
Tsukihiko laughed, embarrassed. He scratched his cheek. A dark bruise had formed there, misshapen like a diseased spot on a leaf. “I guess it is. I lost my bowl again, so…”  
  
It was a crisp autumn day. Youta had been spending his time polishing his pipe, undisturbed until Tsukihiko had made his appearance again. Eying him, he held out his hand. Sweat beaded the other’s brow, but he acted almost immediately. Another twenty pieces were handed over.  
  
"… I didn’t ask for twenty, did I?"  
  
"Huh?" The smile still stood, but it trembled ever so slightly. "Um, well, I thought that, since last time, you’d—"  
  
"I’m pulling your leg. Calm down. Go ahead and take your share."  
  
Indignation should’ve been the proper response, but Tsukihiko only made a weak noise of relief, slumping. Youta watched from a safe distance as he chowed down with the ferocity of a hungry dog.  
  
"What’s with your head?" he spoke up once the carnage was done. "You look like some undercooked dumpling."  
  
"Do you think it looks that delicious…?"  
  
"Don’t be disgusting. You shouldn’t bother walking around with hair like that. If I were you, I’d shave all of it off and become a monk."  
  
"You think so? Well, I guess you’re right in a way." Tsukihiko looked down at his empty bowl. "But I wouldn’t be suited for that sort of life at all."  
  
Like you’re suited for this one, thought Youta, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he went on with his work, taking care to polish every inch of his pipe twice. The metal had patches of rust, but he never could replace it. He felt Tsukihiko’s eyes on him, but did not lift his head to acknowledge him.  
  
"Most people think I’m a ghost of some sort." It was Tsukihiko who broke the silence. "They wouldn’t think that I should be allowed in a monastery."  
  
"Then I’m the only one with common sense," Youta answered wryly. "If you run around looking like that the enemy’ll pick you off first like the dumpling you are. Soldier’s no good for you." Function over for, that was how it should be in the military. But both of them knew that reality was far from any ideal. "For ten coins, I’ll gladly give you a haircut."  
  
Tsukihiko laughed at that. “It brings me a lot of trouble,” he admitted. “But… I think I like it.”  
  
"What kind of attitude is that? That sort of positivity isn’t going to make me money. C’mon, hurry up and hate yourself."  
  
Another laugh, but he could hear that this one was freer, lighter.  
  
By the time Tsukihiko laughed his pipe was clean. Youta turned it over, letting it shine in the firelight before lifting his head.  
  
"A real piece of work he is," he said. "He should’ve taken my offer."  
  
—  
  
They went about this way for a while. With each passing week, Youta’s pockets grew fatter and fatter while Tsukihiko’s dwindled in size. Entering the camps to reach the campfires was a guarantee for harassment and new bruises. Yet the albino came again and again without fail. Loneliness, Youta reflected, was good for business. But he made sure to acquire two bowls after a week had passed, so that he could give the other a full meal.  
  
Sometimes they talked. When they did it was Tsukihiko who hauled it along, asking questions and chattering about nothing. The weather, animals he saw while on patrol, stories he gathered from home. Youta cared little for any of it, but he listened. He was, after all, a paying customer.  
  
—  
  
There were times when Tsukihiko did not come. Youta never pestered him why, nor did he bother to investigate where he might’ve been. These things were better not to ask about. And in violent times like these, becoming attached was never a good method for survival.  
  
Still, it was difficult, for some reason, to ignore the blood on Tsukihiko’s uniform.  
  
"I don’t have any money," said Tsukihiko. The look on his face was pathetically apologetic, his hands folded before him. Despite his face being badly bruised, he managed a sheepish smile. Youta looked at him. Truthfully, he had expected this outcome.  
  
With a shake of his head, he handed the bowl to him.  
  
"… you’re stupid but honest. My wallet loves your kind. In any case, a man in debt is a good man to own."

The bruising was strongest on his jaw, so it hurt to speak. Tsukihiko still talked, albeit slower. “I thought it wouldn’t be so bad when I joined,” he admitted. “But I forgot that a lot of men from my village would be drafted as well.”

"It didn’t matter where they’re from," Youta said. "You had a lot of money and you didn’t hide it. It was a convenient excuse for them." He raised his eyebrows, canted his head. "You really haven’t traveled much, have you?"

"… back home, my parents had left me some land." Tsukihiko stared at the fire. He set down the bowl. "Asahina-san?"

"If it’s a personal question I’ll be adding five to your debt."

"You can charge me ahead of time if you’d like. I have a lot of questions I’d like to ask! Ah, but, I’ve been wondering. What’s the point of having a pipe you don’t smoke?"

Youta’s fingers curled along its stem. “I don’t like the taste of tobacco, but I’m too cheap to sell this old thing. Supposedly, it’s lucky.” He shrugged. “I didn’t believe it because it didn’t look like it’d be charmed. It’s got a nasty scent. But it’s done me just fine so far. If you believe in it, no matter how implausible or strange it might seem, it’ll pull through for you.”

He breathed out slowly. In the firelight, Tsukihiko’s wounds looked even worse. “Works for charms,” Youta said. “Not much for people.”

Tsukihiko’s smile was faint, wavering like a reflection. If something were to disturb it, it was sure to disappear. Yet, by the same token, there was a remarkable calm to it.

"You aren’t too bad of a person, Asahina-san," he said, voice soft. "When the war’s over, be sure to come back alive so you can visit my farm."

"So you took my advice seriously, huh… my pockets’ll miss you." Youta shook his head. "But are you kidding? I’ll be coming back to rob you of it. I’ll drive you into deep, deep debt, Tsukihiko-kun, with the time we got left."

"I thought you would," came the response, proud.

 

—

Tsukihiko disappeared the next night. Youta would never see him again.

—

The army was to would leave the region by the end of the month. At the border, Youta prepared a bag full of money and buried it deep in the woods. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he shaded his eyes. Tsukihiko’s village was in the distance. Somewhere there was a farm, with that half-brained fool.

"I meant what I said," he said. "If you aren’t there I’ll buy off all your land. You gotta pay me back one of these days."

He tossed the shovel into the river and hurried to catch up with the troop.

Marking the spot at the base of a tree was a bowl. In it were three uncooked, small dumplings and a handful of copper coins.


End file.
